


Things You See in a Graveyard

by my_chemical_romanoff



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate season 3 timeline, Angst, Repo the Genetic Opera! AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-07-29 08:51:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16260809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_chemical_romanoff/pseuds/my_chemical_romanoff
Summary: Even after seventeen years, Edward Nygma hasn't gotten over the death of his beloved wife. Working as the mysterious Riddler helps him cope with his anger, but how can he manage when he learns that his best friend is dying and a dark truth is revealed? A Repo! The Genetic Opera AU.





	1. The Riddle Man

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is heavily inspired by the "Riddle Factory" comic. The Repo! parallels will start in the next chapter! I hope you all enjoy! This is a story I've been playing around with for about a year.

             “Welcome, my lovely Gothamites!” The Riddler’s deep voice was quickly drowned out by applause as he stepped into the blinding spotlight. “What a show I have for you all tonight!” He kept his head bowed, allowing for his derby hat to cast a prominent shadow over his face. More cheers followed. “Let’s take a look at the good ole’ clue board!” He turned his back to the audience as he outstretched his arm that wielded a golden cane.

              His assistant Query wheeled out a board with a series of word cards arranged in between blank spaces.

              The head of the Riddler’s question mark shaped cane tapped the edge of the board. “We’re in for a doozy tonight!” he promised the crowd. “We’re going to dig up some dirt on our old friend and real-estate mogul Harold Trojan!” Boos chorused from the crowd. “Not a big fan, are we?” After the booing quieted, the Riddler continued. “Which leads me to this riddle. When is a billionaire’s wife not what she seems?” He turned to recite what was on the clue board. “Tonight we’re starting with ‘after he, blank, the, blank, makes the, blank, and thennn… _Then_ all of you lucky viewers have a nice bit of blackmail!” The Riddler smiled widely as the audience applauded. “Now then!” He pointed his cane to the opposite side of the stage where his second assistant Echo was waiting beside a surprise hidden beneath an emerald sheet. A spotlight shone on her and Echo ripped the sheet off to reveal the Riddler’s Wheel of Doom. The circus-style font depicted an array of bizarre tortures ranging from the always popular  ‘what’s eating you?’ to new tortures like ‘pop goes the kneecaps’ that were painted on hours prior to the show. Every so often, the Riddler had the wheel updated to keep his tortures fresh and the audience on the edge of their seats. “Let’s begin another rrrousing segment of…” He flipped his cane in midair and planted it firmly on the ground. “The Riddle Factory!” The Riddler bowed, mindful that his hat stayed on his head, as his fans screamed. “Which of you lucky guests want to play?” His question was met with shouting and people shoving members of the crowd forward or raising another’s hand. “Pick our first lucky victim, Query!” The Riddler liked to keep a safe distance from the audience below, as he did every week. The mystery of the Riddle-Man’s identity was all part of the fun.

              A man from the sidelines was quickly chosen, mostly against his will. His spiked blond hair reminded Riddler of the way Oswald used to style his. That wasn’t going to make him sentimental. The Riddler showed no mercy during his macabre show. “Are you ready, my good sport?” The Riddler raised the man’s chin with the end of his cane. Their eyes met for a brief second before Riddler turned his head towards his cameraman. “If you don’t already know the game, it’s simple.” Laughter followed from the crowd. “Answer my riddles correctly and our clue board will help reveal the answer to tonight’s blackmail…” He paused and the lights dimmed. “Answer wrong…” An overhead stage light focused on the Wheel of Doom. “I get to spin for what you’re leaving with…or _without_ if we get to pluck your toenails off!” His wicked laugh was quickly drowned out by the audience’s screams. The blond swore under his breath. “Don’t be so nervous. I’ll start with an easy one…” Riddler strut behind the younger man and brought his face close to his ear. “Riddle me this, boy! When is a stand-up tomato like the edge of a knife?”

              “Wha--?!” The blond turned to the Riddler, but he had already sauntered towards the wheel.

              “Tsk-tsk,” the Riddler sighed. “Don’t you know?”

              “What the hell’s a stand-up tomato?!” he hissed. “A comedian?”

              The Riddler rolled his eyes behind his eye mask. “Is that really your answer?” he drawled, placing his gloved hand on one of the wheel’s spokes.

              “I--…” The man’s eyes went wide. “I don’t know!”

              “Well, that isn’t a right answer, either...”

The blond sprinted towards the edge of the stage but Echo grabbed him and twisted his arms behind his back. He tried to fight the woman off, but she was stronger than she looked.

“The correct answer is when it _cuts-up_!” The Riddler’s onlookers fall silent. “ _Cuts-up_!” he repeated. “Catsup!” Crickets would have sounded if one of his staff members had the sound on hand. “Ketchup!” he groaned. “It’s word play!” There were a few low boos followed by some snickering. “Oh dear,” he breathed. “Not my best, was it? But it does fill in the first blank for our clue board!”

Query removed the first blank piece of paper so that the board now read ‘after he cuts up…’

“How about we move on to the part we can all agree on?” the Riddler roared. “Let’s see what you’ve won tonight, young man!” The Riddler cackled as he gave the wheel a rough spin. He could barely hear the man’s howl of protest as the audience’s cheers grew deafening. “What’ll it be, what’ll it be?” Riddler sang, his eyes briefly flickering to the cameraman. The wheel began to slow and there was an eerie silence as everyone waited for which torture the wheel would stop on. A metal peg gave one final click against the arrow that determined the victim’s fate. Riddler’s devilish smirk widened as he saw what the night’s first bit of fun would be. “Rabid Raccoon Rampage it is!”

Echo dragged the screaming victim into the spotlight while Query kicked a wire cage towards center stage. Inside, a feral raccoon clawed at the bars and snapped its teeth.

              The Riddler stepped towards the cage, but kept his distance. “Isn’t she charming?” he chuckled. Echo kicked the back of the man’s knees to get him to kneel.

              “No!” the victim screamed. “No! God! G-give me another riddle!”

              Echo brought his face close to the top of the cage where Query was prepared to open a small door. “Shouldn’t have volunteered, lover boy,” she whispered. “Pucker up!” The door was pulled open and Echo shoved his face in as far as it would go. She pressed her weight against the screaming victim’s body as he thrashed beneath her.

              Words failed the blond as his protests quickly turned into incoherent shrieks as the raccoon bit off a piece of his nose. The cheers and applause only grew louder once they could see blood. As much as they wanted the fun to go on, Echo jerked the man’s head back the moment he began to gag. A dead body had a tendency to drag the cops into their game. Query was quick to lock the cage once the punishment was over. The raccoon was content as she licked blood away from her tiny hands.

              Riddler wrinkled his nose as blood pooled closer to his feet. He went backstage to grab an air horn and hoped that the horn’s blare could calm the obnoxiously loud onlookers. Much like Pavlov’s canine experiments, the Riddler had trained his viewers to settle down whenever he demanded their undivided attention. “How about we get our next contestant up here?” he vilely suggested. “We still have a ways to go. You all want to know tonight’s answer, don’t you?”

              Despite the audience’s enthusiasm to know, willing contestants were a rare find. Query hopped down from the stage and grabbed hold of a woman’s wrist as she was shoved forward.

              The Riddler laughed at her panic. “Don’t worry, my dear. This one will be easier.” He twirled his cane and tapped the end on the ground. “I trust your IQ is high enough to get this, so don’t let me down!” The woman shot him an icy glare and he watched her out of the corner of his eye. “How does a driver smell a fib?”

              The contestant relaxed against Query’s hold and she flashed Riddler a confident and very relieved grin. “With a lie-sense!”

              The audience’s reaction was a mix of cheers and boos. The Riddler applauded her as Echo unveiled the next blank space to be the word ‘license.’ “Excellent!” he cheered. “Bravo! Query, get this fine young Riddlee a shirt, won’t you?” He stared down at the audience below. “Only two more riddles left. Anyone feeling extra bold this evening?” he challenged. Before he could send Echo to fetch a fresh body, a redheaded woman raised her hand.

              “Excellent!” Riddler bellowed. He offered her his cane as she hoisted herself up onto the stage. The new player grabbed the end of the cane as she rose to her feet. Riddler happened to spy a green question mark tattoo on her right forearm and he knew to keep his guard up. He had his fair share of fan encounters. Lucky for him, the only one bold enough to enter his personal space answered his riddle incorrectly. “Riddle me this!” He internally rolled his eyes at her squeal of delight. “What did Shakespeare call his wallet?”

              The woman opened her mouth, but a voice from the audience shouted “Will-fold!” The redhead scowled in the direction of the voice and threw them the finger.

              The Riddler sighed heavily. “I wasn’t asking the peanut gallery, but I thank you for the correct answer.” He turned to Query and waved his hand. She nodded and revealed the third blank space to say ‘will fold.’ “Don’t think you’re getting a shirt!” Riddler warned. “Only my brave and wise volunteers get those.” He turned to the waiting contestant. “Looks like you get the honour of tonight’s final riddle!” That immediately brightened her smile. “Let’s find out what our grand finale is, folks!” He outstretched his arm, his cane inches from his contestant’s nose. “Rrriddle me this!” The audience chimed in with him during his signature catchphrase. “How does an exhibitionist garbage collector break up with his girlfriend?”

              Her lips formed a tight line. After a pause, she opened her mouth, but she was quick to shut her lips.

              Riddler’s cane tapped against the stage once, twice…at the third tap, the crowd began chanting a countdown.

              “Ten! Nine…”

              “He dumps her!” The contestant piped up. “Publicly! He dumps her publicly!”

              All eyes rested on the Riddler as they awaited his final ruling.

              He extended his arm forward, his hand balled up into a fist. When the tension in the room felt thick enough for a rabid raccoon to bite through, he gave the room a thumbs up. “Correct!” he breathed, his deep voice an octave lower than normal.

              Echo unveiled the final blank space to be ‘dumps her in public.’

              “Now, what dirty secret do we know about our old friend Harold Trojan?” the Riddler asked.

              The audience began to read from the clue board in near perfect unison. “After he cuts up the license, makes the will fold and then dumps her in public!”

              “That’s right, my good people of Gotham!” Riddler proclaimed. He raised his arms in the air and black and white photos of Trojan getting cozy with a woman half his age began raining down from the ceiling. “That certainly isn’t Mrs. Trojan you’re seeing in that photo!” The Riddler faced the camera and lowered the rim of his hat. “Join us next week when The Riddle Factory takes aim at the arts!” He spun on his heel and avoided stepping in any blood as he exited the stage.

              Once the Riddler was alone in the safety of his dressing room, he set his hat beside the sink and draped his damp eye mask over it. He splashed some cold water over his face before staring into the eyes of Edward Nygma. Reality set in as he changed into a grey suit before stuffing his emerald green one into a worn messenger bag along with his hat and mask. He waited for one of his assistants to knock, a sign that all of the Riddler’s groupies had cleared. Ed sighed and made the seven block journey home. The porch light was left on, same for the living room’s. He trudged upstairs and stopped at the first door on his left. The door was left ajar and he poked his head inside. The moonlight filtering in through the bedroom window was enough to let him make out the silhouette of his sleeping daughter. He lingered for a moment with a small smile across his lips. How Ed had survived seventeen years of raising her was beyond him. Being the Riddler had always come naturally to Ed, and being Edward Nygma, forensic scientist, was a breeze. Fatherhood was by far his most difficult role. He turned on his heel and made his way back downstairs and into the basement where an eerie green glow illuminated a dark hallway. Edward approached the source of the glow and rested his forehead against the glass that separated him from his frozen statue of a wife. “I’m home, Isabella.”


	2. The Riddle Man's Daughter

              Oswald Cobblepot had made a habit of paying regular visits to his closest friend and conspirator Edward Nygma. The Penguin had never cared for children, but that changed the day Edward’s daughter Ophelia Isabella Nygma was born. It was the same day Ed had lost his wife. Oswald knew that his friend needed him more than ever, and somewhere in between watching Ed’s newborn daughter sleep so that her father could nap and learning how to change diapers, Oswald had let the infant wrap herself around his finger. He knew Ed didn’t mind his regular visits, especially since Ophelia adored her Uncle Oswald. “I’ll even have Fish Mooney performing,” he announced over breakfast.

              “Really?” Ophelia’s eyes lit up the same way that Ed’s once did.

              Oswald nodded. A shame that those eyes resembled more of her mother than of Edward. The girl did have her father’s smile, though. Oswald always looked for what resembled Edward in her. He and Isabella had never seen eye-to-eye. “I’m one of the very few that can bring her out of retirement. She’ll do anything for me.”

              “Do you think I can meet her?” The girl asked in a dreamy way. Her Uncle Oswald was the one to introduce her to Fish’s music when she was little. There was something so calming, yet so sad in her voice that had caught her interest. Ophelia never had a chance to see Fish Mooney perform since live shows were a rare treat. Her father also wasn’t a big fan. He had said that she wasn’t the nicest woman, but Oswald always spoke highly of her.

              “Of course you can, my dear girl.” He smiled fondly.

              “Ophelia?” Edward grumbled as he walked into the kitchen. “You aren’t bothering your uncle, are you?”

              Oswald interjected before she could protest. “She made breakfast, Edward. If that’s your definition of bothering, then she can bother me all day long.” He patted his distended stomach with a satisfied grin.

              Ed poured himself a cup of coffee and sat across from Oswald. “I thought we weren’t meeting until later.”

              Oswald removed the monocle from his right eye and cleaned it against his vest. “Then I wouldn’t have gotten to say hello to my goddaughter.” He reached into his jacket pocket and presented an envelope to Ed. “And I also have your formal invitation. Your daughter has already RSVP’d.”

              “Has she?” Ed’s eyes flickered to his daughter as he opened the suede purple envelope. He already knew what it was. Oswald was infamous for going all out for birthday parties.

              Ophelia hopefully looked at Oswald. “Do you think the Riddler will be there, too?”

              Oswald lowered his fork before taking another bite of food and Ed’s eyes grew wide as he whipped his head towards his daughter. He had a list of questions building up that left his mouth before he could compose himself. “How do you know about him? He’s a criminal!” He had always taken care in not letting his stern parenting voice sound anything like the Riddler. Now he needed to be more careful than ever.

              She rolled her eyes. “He’s everywhere, Dad. And his show’s pretty cool.”

              Oswald had to fight back a smirk as Edward’s eyes bugged out of his head.

              “His show is a disgrace!” he shouted. “And I am well aware that it comes on past your bedtime!”

              Ophelia scoffed. “I don’t need a bedtime!”

              “You do when you’re sick,” Ed lectured.

              Ophelia audibly groaned as she left the table. “I sleep all day, dad!” she shouted. “When I’m not being homeschooled I’m just stuck in my room bored out of my mind!”

              Oswald could see the anger burning in Ed’s eyes. As much as he loved watching drama unfold, he respected Edward and his daughter enough to know that he couldn’t stay. He rose from his chair and left the room without either of them noticing that he was gone.

              “Rest clearly isn’t helping! I’m still dying!” Ophelia kicked a cabinet door with the heel of her foot and the room fell deafeningly quiet. She peeked past her veil of dark brown hair over to her father to find him hunched over the kitchen table, hands balled up into fists. Ophelia fidgeted with the edge of her shirt as she waited for him to say something. A hint of movement also would have sufficed. “Dad?”

              Ed slammed his fists against the table, hissing as the sides of his hands and pinkies began to sting.

              “Dad!”

              “I’m _trying!_ ” he shouted, looking up at his daughter with tears in his eyes. “I’m doing everything I can, Ophelia!” His voice broke as the tears rolled down his cheeks.

              She took a step towards her father. “I know,” she murmured. “Dad, I didn’t mean it,” she promised. “I’m sorry!”

              Ed collapsed into a chair and ran a hand through his graying hair. “I can’t lose you,” he choked.

              Ophelia moved closer to his side and hesitantly reached out to rub circles against his back. Tears stung her own eyes as she felt his back shudder. “You won’t.” She pulled up a chair and sat, their knees brushing against one another’s. “I’ll be okay,” she promised.

              Oswald couldn’t help but eavesdrop from the living room couch. He needed to stay just in case the situation took a horrible turn. Knowing that the two were at peace, he left. He already had plans to meet with Ed later.

* * *

 

              “I can’t believe she watches that show.” Ed was too focused on his daughter to even think about work.

              Oswald knew that his friend would have Ophelia on his mind. He couldn’t blame him after the way his morning started. “Many do, Edward,” Oswald lectured. “And it isn’t like the Riddler broadcasts on pay-per-view.”

              Ed fiddled with the buttons on the sleeve of his jacket. “That’s very tempting…” he sighed. “I can’t be doing this anymore, Oswald. Especially now that she’s aware…”

              “It’s who you are, Ed,” Oswald reminded him. “You’ve loved this lifestyle since before we were friends. It’s what _bonded_ us,” he continued, reaching across the desk for his friend’s hand.

              “Things have changed,” Ed muttered. “The only reason I started the show was to get revenge for Isabella.”

              Oswald pulled his hand away.

              “Every doctor she had is gone now.” Ed’s voice took on the Riddler’s dark tone. “Everyone responsible for her death is long dead.”

              _All but one…_ Oswald chose to keep that comment to himself. It would destroy Ed if he knew whose call it was to slowly increase the amount of poison in his wife’s daily prescription. Oswald’s only regret was that the poison thrived in Ophelia’s blood. Never in a million years could he have guessed that he would love Edward’s daughter as if she was his own.  “So it’s retirement for the Riddler? Show and all?”

              Ed sighed. “I still have my day job.”

              Oswald wasn’t going to push him. His plate was already full enough. “If that’s what will make you happy, Edward.”

              He smiled tiredly for his longtime friend. “Thank you, Oswald.”

              Ed’s smiling face never failed to make Oswald’s chest ache. “Anything for you, Ed.” He laced his fingers together and stared down at his protruding middle. There were many secrets Oswald wanted to take to his grave. The feelings that he felt for Ed were one of them. He looked up at his partner with a grin. “Now, about my birthday party…”

              “I’ll be there. Don’t worry,” Ed promised. “Me and Ophelia.”

              “I appreciate that.” Oswald relaxed in his chair. “It will be the grandest party of all.”

              Ed smirked. “You say that every year. How is it that you always outdo yourself?”

              Oswald shook his head as he stared into Ed’s dark eyes. “Nothing will ever surpass this year’s party.”

              “Fish Mooney is a tough act to follow.” It’s been years since Ed had even seen her. She had retired from running Gotham’s Underworld years ago. She took up singing shortly after but once her voice gained fame and forced the spotlight on her, she retired from that, too. “How is she?”

              “I’m dying, Ed.” The words left Oswald’s mouth before his brain could process them. They were said like a bandage being ripped from the skin. He watched Edward with a solemn expression as his partner’s brows furrowed.

              Rarely anything shocked Ed to the point of being rendered speechless. His jaw hung open as he waited for Oswald to reveal that he was joking. Unless Ed had misheard him- but his ears were very keen.

              “I’m dying,” Oswald repeated. He watched Ed’s mouth try to form words, but nothing was coming out. “It’s my heart. Same condition my father had,” he explained.

              “Dying?” Ed clenched his fists. “How long have you known?”

              “Four days,” he answered. Oswald didn’t care to divulge how Victor Zsasz had to bring him into the hospital for chest pains. “I know I’ve never taken the best care of myself, but at this point, it’s getting to be too late for me.” Oswald had never let the weight he had put on over the years get to him and the injury to his right leg grew worse by the day. Age was forcing his body to fail him, but to be fair, Oswald never did expect to live very long with his crime lord lifestyle.

              Ed was afraid to ask his next question. Ignorance was bliss, but he still had to know. “How much longer?” he quietly wondered.

              Oswald shrugged and Ed clenched his jaw. “Six to eight months, give or take.”

              “And there’s no cure?” His voice hitched. First Isabella, then his daughter…

              “None that they can find.”

              And now Oswald.

              “But I’m coming to peace with it.” Oswald forced a smile. “I’m not sure how this fair city will fare without me, but at--”

              Ed’s fingers made knots in his hair. “I’m not letting you die!” he shouted. “I’ll look into your condition. There-there has to be a cure for it. I know there is!” He lowered his trembling hands as he desperately stared at Oswald.

              Oswald placed his hand over Edward’s and shook his head. “If there was a cure, I wouldn’t be telling you this.”

              “You can’t talk like that. I’ll help you! Oswald, I won’t lose you.” Tears stung his eyes which rolled down his cheeks when he blinked. “Not you, too…”

              Seeing Ed in distress made Oswald’s chest ache. Telling him had only done further harm, but Oswald knew how horribly Ed would take it if he were to die suddenly. Oswald could only imagine what Ed’s reaction would be like if he knew how much he loved him. Would it crush his heart? Would he be repulsed?  “I’m sorry.” His own throat felt tight.

              “I can’t lose you,” Ed rasped, turning his wrist so that his fingers could grip Oswald’s. “Let me save you.”

              Oswald knew that he couldn’t tell Ed to give up because he wouldn’t. The man was still fighting tooth and nail to keep his daughter’s illness from killing her. For all he knew, Ed could very well save him. It was a lot to gamble on, but he believed in Ed more than any doctor. The two sat in deafening silence for what felt like an eternity. A knock on the door brought them out of their trance and Ed slipped his hand away from Oswald’s. “Come in,” Oswald called out after clearing his throat.

              Butch Gilzean entered with his usual grim expression. “Your two o’clock is here, Boss.”

              Oswald nodded. “Yes, thank you.” He got up, grabbing his cane as he did so. “How about dinner later, Edward?”

              The man was quiet as he got up to leave. “I’ll see.” He proceeded to leave Oswald’s office without another word.

              Butch side-eyed Ed as he brushed past him. “Everything alright, Boss?”

              Oswald sighed heavily. “Bring in my next appointment.”

              Butch obeyed. Once Oswald’s two o’clock was in his office, Butch made his way to the Iceberg Lounge’s entrance to make a call. “I’ve got some good news,” he said. “Can we meet somewhere?”


	3. Mark It Up

               Barbara Kean sat perched atop a table with her legs crossed as she sipped a Martini. One would never guess that she was a woman in her late forties, but Barbara wasn’t ashamed to admit that she had help in keeping up her youthful appearance. She saw Butch strut into the restaurant and hopped down. “You’re late.”

              Tabitha beat her at greeting Butch. She got up to press a kiss to his cheek before walking him to their table.

“So.” Barbara sat down in a chair. “What’s today’s ménage a trois all about?”

              A waitress stopped by to bring Butch his usual shot of whiskey. He sat and hunched forward with Tabitha and Barbara seated at each side of him. “It’s Penguin.” The chatter from the parties around him didn’t alter his hushed tone. Barbara raised a brow and Tabitha leaned in closer. “Overheard him say he’s dying.” The women exchanged looks of interest. “Nothing can be done, either. It’s got Nygma shaken up.”

              “Screw Nygma!” Barbara sneered, her smile wide. “This is our chance to get what we deserve. Gotham’s Underworld.”

              “Don’t you think he’ll leave that to his best friend?” Tabitha reminded her girlfriend.

              Barbara tapped on her glass with a manicured nail. “Pengy and Eddie aren’t going to be best buddies anymore when Eddie finds out the truth...” Tabitha and Butch stared at her with matching expressions of curiosity and interest. Barbara set her glass aside and leaned forward with her chin resting on her laced fingers. “Pengy didn’t exactly play nicely with Eddie’s Isabella.” She ran a finger across her neck and tilted her head, letting her tongue hang out the side of her mouth.

              “Well, shit.” Butch took a swig of his drink.

              Tabitha flashed Barbara an amused smirk. “You’ve been waiting to play this card, haven’t you?”

              She shrugged. “It’s a secret I’ve been keeping for a rainy day.”

              “How did you even find out?” she pressed.

              Barbara grinned. “The usual eavesdropping. Working for Ozzie has done wonders for my blackmail arsenal.”

              “You don’t think Ed’s gonna fight us for Penguin’s territory?” Butch asked.

              Barbara rolled her eyes. “All that string bean wants to do is play his silly games and play house.”

              “We can also use the daughter against him if he does try anything,” Tabitha added.

              “So how’d Cobblepot kill the girl?” Butch wondered. “Nygma’s still bent outta shape about that.”

              Barbara finished off her drink and slid the glass to the side. “A little drop of poison here and there. As usual, Pengy had others do the dirty work.” She smirked. “What say we give him a taste of his own medicine and end him even faster?”

              Tabitha raised her glass. “Sounds like a fair plan.”

* * *

 

              Ed dropped off a stack of folders on Oswald’s desk at the Iceberg Lounge. He had needed a break from work at the GCPD and hoped to see his friend only to discover that Oswald was away for a meeting. Ed ran his fingertips along the edge of his desk and stopped to pick up a framed picture of the two of them with a much younger Ophelia. He could remember every detail of that October day. It was sunny, something that rarely happened in Gotham. Oswald pressured Ed into skipping work and taking Ophelia to the park. He returned the frame to its place and longed for the simpler days. Though the wound of losing Isabella was even fresher in those days, at least Ophelia’s younger self adored him. These days Ed felt like he could never connect with her the way he used to.

              “Eddie!” Barbara sang as she allowed herself into Oswald’s office. “I’m not interrupting, am I?”

              Ed turned with a forced smile. “Oswald is out at the moment.” He and Barbara never learned to see eye-to-eye. Where Ed always preferred to take a thoroughly-calculated route, Barbara wanted direct action. Oswald could never trust them to work together. The Penguin always had to order them and try to favour both parties’ opinions whenever problems in Gotham’s Underworld arose.

              “I know.” She sauntered up to Ed and straightened his tie. “I’m here to see _you_.”

              He wrinkled his nose. “I’m concerned already.”

              “Don’t be.”

              Butch stepped into the office with Tabitha in tow.

              “What would you say if I had the answer to a puzzle you didn’t?” Barbara taunted.

              Ed chuckled. “That’s doubtful, but indulge me.”

              Butch pulled a bottle of pills from his pocket and gave it a shake before tossing it to Ed.

              He caught it and had to do a double-take upon seeing the name written on the prescription. Isabella Nygma. His eyes narrowed. “Where did you get these?” The bottle was dated one week before Isabella’s death.

              “An old friend of yours,” Barbara noted. “From your Arkham days… _Strange_ how this is all coming back, no?”

              “’Strange?’” he repeated, his voice took on the low growl of the Riddler. “He had nothing to do with Isabella!”

              Butch snorted. “He was just getting his hands dirty for the real baddie.”

              “Riddle me this, Eddie,” Barbara drawled as his mouth hung open. “What’s black and white and soon to be red all over?”

              “The answer’s in the newspaper?” Ed assumed.

              Tabitha snorted derisively. “We’re thinking the ‘red all over’ part will come once you find out who did it.”

              “Black and white,” Ed muttered under his breath. “Penguin?” He turned on his heel to face the trio. “What are you getting at? Oswald would never--!”

              “He’s no stranger to murder,” Butch commented.

              Ed jerked the lapel of Butch’s jacket. The man hardly budged. “He would never do that to my wife!”

              “Name a time those two actually played nicely,” Barbara snickered.

              Ed shook his head. “They’ve always gotten along…” He watched Barbara wave a finger at him. “Well, for the most part. That still doesn’t explain why he would _kill_ her! And Isabella died from childbirth complications,” he continued, his voice wavering.

              “That’s what he wanted you to think,” Tabitha spat.

              Ed shuffled away from the trio as they inched uncomfortably close. “But _why_?”

              Barbara’s pleased grin widened. “That old housekeeper of Ozzie’s once let me in on a little secret. A girl to girl thing…” Ed’s watering eyes were making it hard for her to take him seriously ever again. The Riddler wasn’t supposed to be such a pathetic mess. “She said that Ozzie had a little crush on a certain someone…”

              “Isa--…” The lump in Ed’s throat left him unable to finish.

              “You’re getting warmer,” Barbara giggled. She pressed a finger to his chest.

              Ed furrowed his brows as he blankly stared at her finger. “Me?” he rasped. “Oswald…loved _me_?”

              Butch laughed as Ed backed himself into a wall. “Crazy, huh?”

              Tabitha rolled her eyes at Butch. “Don’t act like you knew all along.”

              “I had a feeling,” Butch stated matter-of-factly. “The guy’s always been a little too overprotective of Nygma if you ask me.”

              Ed ran a hand through his greying hair. “You’re lying to me.”

              Barbara shrugged as she turned on her heel and headed for the door. “Believe what you will, then, Eddie…” Tabitha and Butch followed after her as they left the room.

              Ed spotted the bottle of Isabella’s anxiety medication on the floor. He went over to pick it up. The prescription was the same as her others. Even her doctor and the pharmacy where she would always pick it up was the same. Ed’s fingers tightened around the bottle. He planned to run some tests on the remaining tablets using the GCPD’s lab. If what Barbara said was true, he intended to find Hugo Strange for more answers. Confronting Oswald was to be his very last resort. Knowing Barbara and her cronies, this was all just a ploy to pit him against his longtime friend. Ed grabbed his phone and gave Oswald a call. He answered after the first ring. “Oswald?” he asked gently. “I’m a bit tied up at work. Would you mind bringing dinner to Ophelia?”


	4. Clarity

              “You poor dear,” Oswald said as Ophelia opened the front door for him. “I swear to you that I’m not the reason your father is working this hard.”

              “I know.” Ophelia took a stuffed brown paper bag from him that smelled of stir fry. “These things happen sometimes.”

              “Well.” Oswald followed her inside to the kitchen. “You can help me plan my party,” Oswald told her with a smile.

              The girl grinned. “Have you heard back from Fish Mooney?”

              Oswald took his usual seat at the small table and chuckled. “Not yet, but I know she’ll come.” He pulled his phone from his breast pocket to check if Ed answered any of his messages. Nothing. Oswald knew that Ed had a habit of overworking, but he always checked in, especially when a new episode of “The Riddle Factory” was scheduled to air. He didn’t even know if Ed received his assignment for the night.

              “She’s full of surprises, isn’t she?” Ophelia asked.

              Oswald took a container of Lo Mein from her. “Yes,” he said, snapping out of his daze. “That she is.”

              “Is everything okay, Uncle?” Ophelia could tell by the distant look in Oswald’s eyes that something was wrong.

              He immediately grinned for her. “Right as rain.” Oswald grabbed a plastic fork and began to eat. “Your father still hasn’t said when he’ll be home, but you know how he is.”

              The girl nodded and adjusted her glasses before digging into a container of chicken. “He’ll be back past my ‘bed time,’” she drawled. “Hopefully he won’t show up until Riddle Factory’s over.”

              Oswald chuckled to himself. “I never took you for a young woman who would enjoy a macabre spectacle like that show.”

              Ophelia smiled. At least Oswald didn’t treat her like a child. “He’s interesting. Like, how does he get all this blackmail?” she asked before stabbing a piece of chicken. “And the riddles are clever.”

              Oswald snorted. “No wonder Edward is offended. You’ve never called his riddles clever.”

              “That’s because they’re unoriginal. He pulls them from a book.”

              Oswald could hear Edward’s appalled gasp.

              “Do you think Riddler will show up?” With her father gone, Ophelia could ask again properly.

              Oswald stared at her, a glint catching his monocle. “Are you implying that I rub shoulders with criminals?”

              “No!” Ophelia gasped. Oswald laughed and she smiled in relief. “But you do know a lot of people. Rumor is that Fish Mooney doesn’t even live in Gotham anymore.”

              “Gotham has always been her home,” Oswald confirmed. “And if the Riddler does show, let’s hope he only does so to enjoy some cake.”

              Ophelia made her fork dig a hole into her fried rice. “Do you ever worry he’ll target you?” she asked quietly.

              Oswald felt his utensil slip from his grasp. “My dear girl…” He knew that Edward hid as much of their pasts as they could for her safety. “Of course not. Have you heard something?”

              She shrugged as she stared at her food, her hair partially hiding her face. “He always targets people of power. Doctors, policemen, city leaders…”

              Oswald reached across the table to hold her hand. “It’s been years since I’ve held a position in office. I don’t think I have anything to worry about,” he promised. “Maybe you should give Commissioner Gordon a warning, though,” he winked. “James was always one to watch out for when we were younger,” he teased. The corner of Ophelia’s lip raised. “I’m surprised he hasn’t tracked him down yet. The boy scout is slipping,” Oswald dryly added. The two finished their dinner in silence. Oswald decided to stay and waited for Ophelia to go up to her bedroom to give Ed another call. He scowled when he got Edward’s voicemail. “Ed, where are you? Did you read up on tonight’s target?”

              An hour came and went and still no word from Ed. Oswald made a call from his burner phone to see if Echo or Query had heard from him. The two had yet to hear anything, forcing Oswald to leave Ed another message, this one slightly angrier. “You never miss this, Ed! What is going on?” “The Riddle Factory” was set to air that night, but that wouldn’t happen without its star. Oswald was sure that the live audience would riot. The Riddler’s devout fans were bound to make a scene if their hero failed to appear.

* * *

 

              Finding Hugo Strange was a puzzle, but puzzles were Ed’s greatest strength. The people of the Narrows weren’t keen on giving up their sources from whom they got their fixes from. Ed was, however, clever enough to piece together the eight individuals he spoke with and discovered that Strange had to be hiding out at the loading docks near the river. With the sun preparing to set, Ed started to drive. He sighed as he drove up to a warehouse near the docks. Ed left his car wearing Riddler’s top hat. “Huuugo Strange!” he bellowed in a deep tone. Seagulls’ distant cries were the only things heard. “It’s your old pal! Remember me?” The Riddler found a side door that was unlocked. “From our Arkham days!” His voice echoed as he stepped into a room that reeked of mildew. He spied a blue glow seeping through the crack of a closed door. Ed stormed towards the door and twisted the knob. It was locked which made the Riddler jerk and twist it harder. “I know you’re hiding in there, Strange!” he seethed, voice taking on an even lower register. “I know you killed my wife!” He kicked the door with the heel of his shoe. “Isabella!” Another kick. “Do you remember her?!” The side of his hand punched the door and he swore he heard a chuckle from the other side.

              After a prolonged silence, Hugo Strange spoke. “I do,” he replied.

              Riddler kicked the door again, hissing from the pain in his heel. “Why did you?!”

              “She made you weak, Edward.”

              “That isn’t my name!” the Riddler hissed. The answer brought Ed some relief, but it wasn’t enough. “ _Why?!_ Since when have _you_ cared about my well being?”

              “You’ve always shown great potential, Edward,” Hugo continued.

              “That isn’t good enough for me!” Ed knew he should quit while he was ahead. A strong part of him yearned to believe that Barbara was lying. Oswald had been his closest friend for years. Ed knew his best friend would never betray and lie to him…

              The doorknob clicked and Hugo slowly opened the door. “Am I to be your next special guest?” he asked as he allowed the Riddler into a cramped room littered with papers and shelves of various substances.

              The Riddler shook his head. His game show had completely slipped his mind. A new episode was set to film in a matter of hours. He pressed his back against the door and watched Strange go over to his desk and sit. “Not at this moment…”

              The doctor’s grin widened as an eerie blue light shone down on his features. “How surprising. I take it that you know the truth, then…I always knew you would find out…”

              The Riddler felt the weight of the knife in his pocket.

              “Are you sure I won’t be going with you to your little show?” Strange inquired. “You never hesitated when it came down to bringing in every doctor and nurse present at your wife’s unfortunate death…”

              Ed’s hand subconsciously reached for the pocket knife and flicked his wrist to reveal the blade.

              Strange eyed the knife with amusement. “Does it bother you that none of them were actually responsible?”

              “ _You_ were!” The Riddler growled, advancing towards the doctor. He held the knife to his neck, allowing for the blade to barely nick the skin.

              “Do you genuinely believe that, Edward?” Hugo drawled. More pressure was applied to his throat and he winced from the sharp pain. “You know,” he gasped, “that this was all dear Oswald, don’t you?” The knife lightly brushed across Hugo’s throat as the Riddler stepped back. Strange’s hand hugged his throat in an effort to stop the bleeding. “You’re afraid of the truth, aren’t you?” he smirked.

              “Shut up!” Edward shouted. He swung his hand which wielded the knife into a desk. Hugo Strange answered with chuckles that turned into a fit of coughing as Ed began to repeatedly stab the wooden desk until his arm ached. “He would never do that…” Ed’s voice was quiet as he sank to the floor. The room was ghostly silent and Ed turned his head to check on the doctor. The older man’s chest was steadily rising and falling as he glared at The Riddler. “Not to me…” Ed slowly rose to his feet and fumbled to get the knife back into his pocket. His shaking hand opened the door and slammed it shut behind him.

* * *

 

              Oswald brought his eyes to the front door of the Nygma household the second he heard the lock click. He rose from the couch with the help of his cane. Oswald could barely get three steps in before he was face-to-face with Ed who watched him with narrowed eyes.

              “Where’s my daughter?!” Ed snapped. He couldn’t help but use the Riddler’s dark tone.

              Oswald gasped as Ed forcefully grabbed his arm. “Upstairs!” He hissed, jerking his arm away. “What the hell has gotten into you?!”

              Ed unclenched his jaw as he made his way over to the couch. He refused to look the man in the eyes. Ed knew he couldn’t lash out here. He had already devised a plan to deal with Oswald and now wasn’t the time to follow through. “Rough day,” he grumbled.

              “Too rough for you-know-what?” Oswald pointed his cane towards the muted TV. A live feed of The Riddle Factory showed a mob of people packed before the Riddler’s stage while throwing balled-up flyers and raising their fists. Had the volume been up, they would have heard shouting and chanting for the Riddler. “Where have you been, Ed?” Oswald slowly approached the couch and sat beside his friend. His hand pat Ed’s thigh and he felt his muscles stiffen. “Edward…”

              “My head’s been killing me,” he lied. “Stress…”

              Oswald’s gaze softened. “I had dinner with Ophelia,” he began. “She’s worried about you, if that’s any consolation.”

              Ed slightly nodded. “It is.”

              “I’m sorry for snapping at you in my messages,” Oswald added.

              Ed had deleted said messages without bothering to listen.

“It isn’t like you to miss being him,” Oswald continued. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Ed softly replied, still avoiding Oswald’s eyes.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

Ed shook his head. “Just…” He knew that Oswald was only going to badger him until things were fine again. “I’m worried about your health, Oswald.”

He smiled softly. “Thank you, Edward.” Oswald folded his hands in his lap. “I’ll be alright. I’ve lived a good life.” He chuckled. “I’ve already lived years longer than I thought I would.”

“Any regrets?” Ed inquired, watching Oswald out of the corner of his eye.

Oswald’s mouth opened as if to speak but nothing came out.

“It’s fine,” Ed shrugged. “We all have our secrets.”

Oswald shook his head and stared at his hands. “There is one.” He could feel Edward’s eyes on him and he felt sweat bead at the back of his neck beneath his ponytail. 

Ed’s stare hardened. If he confessed now, he swore to slit Oswald’s throat right then and there.

“You’ve been my dearest friend for years, Edward…” Oswald rubbed his palms against his thighs. “My dearest and best friend.”

Ed wondered how long this would be dragged out for.

Oswald turned to him, desperate to say the words that had been forced back for far too long. “My father had left me a great deal before he passed.” But he just couldn’t say the words he longed to say. “I want you and Ophelia to have it all. My estate, my money, everything…”

“I can’t accept that,” Ed stated in a crisp tone.

“I insist,” Oswald quickly replied. “I want the very best for you and Ophelia after I’m gone.”

 _We would have the very best if her mother was still here…_ Ed held his tongue. He would get his revenge for Isabella soon enough. “We’ll be fine.”

Oswald heavily sighed before standing up. “Just consider it.” He stared down at his friend before turning away. “Good night, Edward.”

Ed remained still until he heard the door shut. He then got up to shut it and took a series of deep breath before going upstairs. There was no light peeking through the crack in Ophelia’s door. Ed carefully pushed it open just enough to see her sleeping silhouette. As he watched the subtle rise and fall of her side, he wondered if she should know the truth-that her Godfather was the reason behind her blood disease…but that could trigger an episode that would make her condition worse. He couldn’t bear lying to her, but the truth was too painful, especially for him. Ed headed back downstairs and unlocked the door to the basement. “Oh, Isabella,” he breathed. His feet walked towards a familiar green glow. He pressed a hand to the cold glass where his wife’s body stood. “Things should have been different.” His fingers tightened into a fist. “He’s going to pay for what he did to you,” the Riddler growled. “What’s black and white and red all over?” He spun around on his heel with a wide grin. “A bloody Penguin!”


End file.
